Reservoir 13 by Jon McGregor - Breaking the 'rules'

I found Jon McGregor’s ‘Reservoir 13’ an utterly absorbing read: a teenage girl disappears near a moorland village and a whole community is affected, in the immediate aftermath and in the years to come. The mystery of her fate underlies the stories of the novel’s many characters, whose lives and experiences change and develop along with the seasons and the surrounding landscapes.

The novel is also interesting because of the way the writer skilfully violates the standard advice frequently offered to amateur writers of fiction. There are no paragraph divisions, the points of view and locations often alter swiftly, within the space of a page, and the direct speech is not conventionally presented, but integrated within the narrative. The third person narration often describes events, people and topography from a distant, ‘bird’s eye’ view, then swoops in nearer, to reveal individuals, their relationships, their voices and their internal lives. The characters’ separate story lines are variously linked to the girl’s disappearance, the passing years measured by the distance since the event.

Here is an extract from Chapter 1, which illustrates some of these features. The people in the village are still greatly affected by the disappearance of the girl.

At the butcher’s for May Day weekend there was a queue but nothing like there once would have been. Nothing like the queue Martin and Ruth needed to keep the shop going. Martin had been keeping this to himself, although it was becoming obvious and nobody asked. Irene was at the front of the queue telling everyone what she knew about the situation at the Hunters’. She did the cleaning there, and knew a thing or two. You can imagine what it’s like for the girl’s parents, she said. Having to watch us all down here just getting on with things. Ruth saying but surely the village couldn’t be expected to put life on hold. Austin Cooper came in with copies of the Valley Echo newsletter and laid them on the counter. Ruth wished him congratulations, and he looked confused for a moment before smiling and backing away towards the door. Irene watched him go, and asked if Su Cooper was expecting. Ruth said yes, at last, and from the back of the queue Gordon Jackson asked would there be any chance of getting served before the baby was born. A breakdown truck came slowly down the narrow street, with a red LDV Pilot van hoisted on the back and a police car following. The van was wrapped in clear plastic. Martin wiped his hands on his apron and stepped outside to watch it pass. Gordon came out with him and lit a cigarette. Martin nodded. That changes things, he said. Fucking break-through is that, Gordon said. The swallows returned in number, and could be seen flying in and out through the open doors of the lambing shed at the Jacksons’ and the cowsheds over at Thompson’s and the outbuildings up on the Hunters’ land. The well-dressing committee had a difference of opinion about whether to dress the boards at all this year. Under the circumstances. There’d never been a year without a well dressing that anyone could remember………… 

This section presents a wide range of elements of plot, setting and characters, slipping from straight narrative into free indirect speech then to sudden changes of topic and location: Martin’s awareness of his failing business, the personality of the village gossip Irene, the Cooper’s fertility problems, the progress of the police investigation, Gordon Jackson’s personality, the wider countryside and seasonal village activity.

These devices create a rich and compelling picture of the lives of the inhabitants of a village community and the cyclical nature of country life, as well as an intriguing mystery which stretches over thirteen years.

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Novel Competition Feedback

I was pleased to have a novel longlisted recently in the Mslexia novel competition, but of course I was disappointed that it didn’t make the shortlist. The ‘rejection’ message from Debbie Taylor was very positive and encouraging, although the exhortation to re-write and revise the work in the light of general feedback is a little problematic. I, and probably many of the others longlisted, was unsure which, if any, of these particular aspects made my novel less successful. However, the following may be of interest to others who are planning or working on novels.

Hello there,

And thank you so much for letting us see your full manuscript, which was one of the Top 100 selected from a very strong field. I am so sorry to let you know that it has not been shortlisted on this occasion.

I’m not able to give you individual feedback on your work, but I can give you some general guidelines from the judges that you might consider if and when you decide to redraft your novel. At this level, where the standard of writing is already very high, these are suggestions for fine-tuning what is already a very accomplished manuscript.

Our judges told us that several of the longlisted novels didn’t make it through to the shortlist due to a lack of focus in the early stages of the book. Often this was because too many characters were introduced too quickly, so it was unclear who the main protagonist was. Sometimes it was because a prologue introducing one character/setting was followed by a Chapter One introducing an entirely different character/setting, or the same character at a different age. (There was a general sense that many prologues were a distraction that tended to delay the reader’s engagement in the novel.)

Another reason for a lack of focus was underwriting, where the narrative and description were so sparse it was hard to know exactly what was happening – or to whom. Of course, a degree of mystery and withholding of information is important in fiction, to spur the reader to turn the page; but taken too far it can result in a slightly arid prose that makes it difficult to understand or empathise with the characters. If that rings true for your novel you might consider unpacking the text a little and letting your characters breathe.

Our judges also mentioned that in several of the longlisted novels the psychology of a key character didn’t really ring true – because they responded bizarrely to a relatively minor setback, for example, or suffered from an unlikely bout of amnesia. In these cases the judges felt the plot was dominating the book at the expense of the characters – always a difficult balance to maintain. In other novels it was the plot itself that was problematic – in some of the magic realist or speculative fiction manuscripts especially – and the basic logic upon which the story was built was not quite credible, even within the fictional world of the novel. In most cases a relatively minor tweak to motivation or logic was all that was needed to keep the reader engaged and committed to the narrative.

What I’m trying to say is, please don’t give up on this manuscript. It came so close to being shortlisted, I am sure that with some judicious rewriting it will eventually find a home. We know from our research that fewer than one in four women who start a novel ever managed to finish it, so getting this far is an enormous achievement.

We noticed that very few women whose novels had been longlisted in previous years submitted the same novel in a revised version this year. As we run our competition for adult novels every two years, we wondered whether this was because they had all found agents and achieved publication in the meantime.

We hear regularly from past finalists that being longlisted or shortlisted in this competition made a huge difference to the way their future submissions are treated by agents and editors – so don’t forget to mention this achievement in your cover letters.

Our next adult novel competition will be in 2019, which means there’s plenty of time for a rewrite – or to set off on a completely different fictional journey with a fresh set of characters. Meanwhile we’ll be launching a major new set of women’s fiction awards in 2018 with a range of categories, including novella and children’s fiction. I do hope that one of them will suit you and that, when the dust has settled, you will let us see some more of your work.

Thank you again for letting us see your work. Do let us know if and when your novel finds a home.

Debbie Taylor
(Editorial Director)

How to write Deep Point of View by Sue Dawes

What is Deep Point of View?

Have you ever read a book where it feels like you’re experiencing what the character feels first hand, and by the end you think you really know them?  It’s probably because the author has used a Deep POV. It's a method of getting the reader right inside the characters head.

How is it done?

There are several things that will help you to get started writing Deep Point Of View.  The following is a guide but bear in mind it takes practice and isn’t easy .  It’s also only successful when using the first or third person limited point of view. 

1.       Remove speech tags

Remove any tags (he said, she said) that distance the reader from the character. One way of doing this is to use actions straight after the speech.

Example:             'Get off me,’ he said.

DPOV:                 'Get off me.’ He put his arms up to protect himself.

2.       Remove any filter words

These are words that describe what the character is thinking or seeing, which also create distance.

Example:              'I don’t like it here’, he thought.

DPOV:                  'I don’t like it here.’ He backed away.

3.       Don’t use the passive voice

Discard any ‘passive’ voice.  The emphasis should be on the subject rather than the object.  It also makes it more immediate.

Example:              'My wallet was stolen by Rita’

DPOV:                 ' Rita stole my wallet.’

4.       Limit the characters knowledge

No one sees everything all of the time.  If your character can’t see it, don’t mention it.

   

Example:              Sarah heard the gun shot and wondered what had happened.

DPOV                   It was definitely a gun shot.  What was happening?

5.       Be careful how your character refer to others

Most people don’t call their sibling ‘brother/sister’ when they meet them, but you still need to show the relationship to the reader.  One way is to put the information into action, a direct thought or a flashback.

Example:             Her brother, John, wound down the window and flicked out the cigarette, knowing it would annoy Gill.

DPOV                 John wound down the window and flicked out the cigarette.  Gill bit back anger. That’s what brothers were for, wasn’t it?  To irritate.

6.       Use all the senses

Remember to use the five senses to convey place and emotion.

Example:            She felt very cold

DPOV                 Shivering, she rubbed her hands over her arms.  God it even smelt cold.

7.       Use flashbacks to create backstory.

You can’t have paragraphs of description in deep POV, unless the character is experiencing it.  All description is detailed through perception.

Example:               'You always were a scruffy child,’ her mother said, smoothing down a dress more suitable for the catwalk than a family meal.  She made Gail feel small, like she was a child again. 

DPOV                   ‘You always were a scruffy child’.  Gail turned away.  She wasn't going to let her mum criticise her, especially while wearing that ridiculous dress.

8.       Be consistent. 

Your character must refer to people in the same way throughout the story.  Their likes and frustrations mustn’t change and everything must be internalised.

Example:               The motorway was jammed.  People were driving slowly and Gail felt angry, like she was going nowhere.

DPOV                   ‘What the hell was wrong with everyone and why were they driving so slowly?’ Gail punched the dashboard.

I found the following sites really helpful when compiling this document.  Both are written in plain English:

http://www.shesnovel.com/how-to-write-in-deep-pov/

http://thewriteconversation.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/conquering-six-enemies-of-deep-point-of.html

13 Ways of Looking at the Novel by Jane Smiley by Clare Hawkins

I have been floundering with the writing of my current novel, partly due to external events but also because the material and the process are failing to ‘grab’ me. With my other novels, I have often become so involved and excited that I can’t wait to get back to the desk to write the next chapter. However, while tidying my desk (a typical avoidance strategy) I re-discovered Jane Smiley’s excellent book 13 Ways of Looking at the Novel’ which I had borrowed from a friend some time ago and never got round to reading. (It’s a hefty volume).

Its subtitle is What to read and how to write and it provides material aplenty to satisfy readers who are also novel writers. I turned to Chapter 10 A Novel of Your Own (I), which is a guide primarily aimed at novice writers attempting their first drafts. However, I felt in need of some pretty basic help and guidance in my current state of mind.

In this chapter Smiley suggests that embarking on writing a novel is an exciting, liberating and inexpensive act, but acknowledges the many obstacles that writers will inevitably experience. She provides an insightful commentary on the elements of novel writing as a hierarchy of skills, but most telling for me was her advice about how to deal with doubts and misgivings during the writing of the first draft.

She is a believer in completing the rough draft without too much ‘fiddling’ or re-writing. A new writer should press on with the first draft ‛in spite of time constraints, second thoughts, self-doubts and judgements of all kinds.’ This is ‘an act of faith that is invariably rewarded – the rough draft of the novel is the absolute paradigm of something that comes out of nothing.’ I’ve always liked the idea that writing a novel is one of the few creative activities which comes almost entirely out of your own head.

Smiley goes on the discuss blockages such as boredom with the material, which she claims arises for various reasons. The first is lack of knowledge about your material, which can be addressed by undertaking more active research. Next, confusion about your premise can cause boredom and avoidance, which can be treated by re-reading and thinking deeply about what is actually going on in the plot and with the characters. Another significant obstacle is being too critical or ashamed of your writing, because it doesn’t measure up to the works of others you aspire to. I can identify very strongly with this. She argues that, ‘Admiration for the work of other novelists should remind you of the goal, but not make the goal seem unattainable, should open up your desire to write, not shut it down.’

There are many other encouraging statements in this chapter too arising from her enthusiasm for novel writing, her conviction that hard work and commitment will bring great pleasure and enjoyment. ‘The trick is to make your material so fascinating that you cannot stay away from it, so intriguing that you ignore negative feelings and second thoughts, so rich with interest that the concepts of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ hardly occur to you.’ Her definition of ‘inspiration’ is interesting too, something which has to be worked at, or ‘a condition of being stimulated by contemplation of the material to a degree sufficient to overcome your natural disinclination to create.’

The chapter also contains some insights into the deeper motivations and insecurities of novel writers, which made slightly uncomfortable reading for me, as I recognised my own errors in some of her examples.

I must read the next chapter, A Novel of Your Own (11), and indeed the rest of the book, as soon as I get time, though now I must pick up my first draft again, re-think its premise, get going and finish it!

Good writing, everyone!